The Last March: A Grimdark Epic Military Fantasy Novel (The Silent Champions Book 6)

by Andy Peloquin

  It proved to be a good thing that Arch-Guardian Dayn had the authority and tenacity to ignore Captain Hadrick’s orders. The thirty workers under his command had been the ones to place his alchemical charges and run the fuse cords that triggered the explosion.

  Koltun breathed easier as he saw the Arch-Guardian conscious and sitting up in the one horse-drawn cart the Menders had kept to haul the wounded out of Highcliff Motte. Pain twisted Dayn’s pale, pinched face and he leaned heavily against the cart’s wooden sides, but he managed a tight nod as Koltun rode up.

  “Glad to see you in one piece,” Koltun told the injured Secret Keeper. “Though you look like you’ve had better days.”

  Dayn turned to his apprentice, who rode next to the cart, and relayed something to the young man using hand gestures. Bradon wrote furiously on his tablet and held it up for Koltun to see. “You’re not quite looking as fresh as a plucked daisy yourself, Koltun.”

  “Fair enough.” Koltun chuckled. “Just thought I’d swing by and check up on you, and make sure you know how grateful we all are for what you did. Sacrificing that amount of flarequartz to cut off the enemy’s advance is the only reason we’re all still breathing.”

  Arch-Guardian Dayn gave a dismissive wave and a shake of his head, as if to say, “It was nothing.”

  “We’re going to need more of that ingenuity to get us through this alive,” Koltun said. “Anything you two can throw at the enemy to slow them down could exponentially increase our chances of survival.” He glanced at Bradon, too. The young apprentice had to know some Secret Keeper tricks that might help them.

  “We will do what we can, Sergeant,” Dayn said through Bradon’s writing. “But remember that our priority is bringing the flarequartz safely to Icespire.”

  Koltun’s jaw muscles twitched. “I understand the importance of your mission, Arch-Guardian. It’s abundantly clear that the flarequartz could change the nature of the war. And yet, can you truly tell me that you value its delivery more than the lives of these soldiers?”

  Arch-Guardian Dayn’s face grew hard, his eyes going flinty. He signed his message to Bradon with short, sharp movements. Bradon held the tablet up to Koltun.

  “Yes.” A single word, written with no hesitation.

  Koltun sucked in a sharp breath. “Truly?” The very idea of valuing the stone—even one as powerful as flarequartz had proven to be—over human life seemed unfathomable. Yet one look in Arch-Guardian Dayn’s eyes left no doubt in his mind.

  The Secret Keeper relayed more words to Bradon, who wrote the message. “You think me an unfeeling monster for saying that?” Dayn cocked an eyebrow, staring at Koltun with a burning curiosity.

  Koltun hesitated. “I wouldn’t go that far—” he began.

  Arch-Guardian Dayn cut him off with a sharp gesture. Signing furiously, he dictated another message to his apprentice. “Tell me, Sergeant, what is it you believe we of the Temple of Whispers do?”

  The question caught Koltun by surprise. “I…er…that is…” He scratched at his long beard, trying to put into words something everyone had always seemed to know. “Alchemy, right? Poisons and potions and such. Turning metal into gold, that sort of thing.” He forced an awkward grin in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Or, in your case, finding rocks that go boom.”

  Arch-Guardian Dayn didn’t smile; indeed, his expression grew strained, lines appearing around the corners of his mouth and eyes. His lips tugged into a frown as he signed to Bradon.

  “We search for the hidden secrets of this world, Sergeant,” the Secret Keeper’s words read. “We unlock mysteries that have either been lost to time or have not yet been discovered. Secrets like, as you say, rocks that go boom.” His face resembled that of someone that had tasted something at once extraordinarily sour and revoltingly bitter.

  Dayn barely waited for Bradon to scrub away the message before signing his next words. “Alchemy is so much more than you will ever understand. It is a science and an art, an excavation of the truths concealed beneath the façade of mundanity. Take this rock, for instance.”

  From a pouch within his robes, Arch-Guardian Dayn drew out a small chunk of black rock and held it out to Koltun with a wince of pain. “When you look at it,” he wrote, “what do you see, Sergeant?”

  Koltun took the stone and stared down at it. “A rock.” He turned it over and over in his fingers. “A bit shiny in spots, with sharp edges. A type of flint, perhaps?”

  Arch-Guardian Dayn gave him a sage nod. “Not bad,” he signed to his apprentice to transcribe. “But you are seeing simply the exterior, the shape, the texture. What of its mineral properties? What does it taste like? How does it reflect the light of the sun and the moon, the heat of a fire, or the cold of a winter wind?” He erased his words and wrote again. “Does it strike sparks when it is dropped? Will it break in half when struck with a chisel or fragment into tiny shards? Is there oil in its core? Water? Diamonds? Silver?” One last message, accompanied by a hard look. “Or is it nothing more than a simple, useless piece of stone?”

  Koltun scowled. “You’re the alchemist. You tell me.” The Secret Keeper might not have had a tongue, but the look on his face was far more patronizing than any tone of voice.

  Dayn plucked the stone from his fingers and turned it over. With a finger, he pointed to a tiny seam in the rock. Nestled as the crack was between two sharp ridges, Koltun had missed it. Yet when Dayn tilted it at just the right angle to catch the moonlight, rainbow colors sprang to life on the black stone.

  Koltun’s eyes widened. “Whoa!”

  With a nod, Arch-Guardian Dayn stowed the stone in his pouch. “That is what a Secret Keeper does, Sergeant. We look for the hidden, the unseen, the unknown. We delve into what lies beneath the visible, searching for the deeper truths.”

  Another message, signed so quickly the writing stick seemed to fly in Bradon’s fingers. “We hunt the truths that can only be unlocked by those who have the mind to question and look at the seemingly mundane with the goal of finding the implausible and impossible. That is how we discover marvels like flarequartz.”

  “I didn’t know.” Koltun couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. “And yet, I still don’t understand why even a marvel like flarequartz is somehow more important to you than the lives of these soldiers.”

  “They are more important than ALL lives, Sergeant.” Bradon wrote the word in large capital letters. “The life of one man or woman may have a profound effect on history. Take, for example, Denever Toran, the man who founded what is now the Princelands. Because of him, countless lives on both Fehl and Einan have been forever changed.”

  “My own included.” Koltun inclined his head. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. None of us would.”

  Arch-Guardian Dayn nodded. “But tell me, Sergeant, what had a greater effect on the history of our world: the life of Prince Denever Toran, or the discovery that mixing iron with alloying metals produces steel?”

  Koltun’s eyebrows shot up. There was no contest: Prince Denever Toran had founded a kingdom, the most powerful on Fehl, home to hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions, of people. Yet steel was common in every corner of the world—not just the continent of Fehl, but all across the vast mainland of Einan. Steel was present in architecture, art, engineering, industry, alchemy, and nearly every aspect of modern society.

  “Steel, of course.” The fact that the answer came so quickly to his lips left him uncomfortable. He could see where the Secret Keeper’s line of questioning was headed, and he didn’t like the direction.

  “Do you know who first crafted steel?” Arch-Guardian Dayn said through Bradon’s writing tablet.

  Koltun’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “It’s been around for centuries.”

  “More than a millennia,” the apprentice Secret Keeper’s tablet read. “Possibly one of the greatest discoveries of an age, and yet no one remembers the name of the man—or woman—who discovered it.”

  Koltun narrowed
his eyes. “Which means…?”

  This time, Arch-Guardian Dayn took his time signing the words. “The who is never as important as the what.” The Secret Keeper fixed Koltun with a hard look. “The secrets that, when unlocked, shape the course of this world care not for who lives or dies in their discovery. The greatest advancements are made regardless of how many casualties are required to make them.”

  Koltun felt an icy chill run down his spine. There was something so terribly cold and unfeeling about the Secret Keeper’s statement, yet Dayn’s face showed no hint of remorse or apology for the utter callousness of his words.

  “I ask you this, Sergeant.” The Secret Keeper had his apprentice write a new message. “If you knew that the discovery of flarequartz would one day have as profound and widespread an effect on mankind as steel has, would its value increase in your mind? No longer simply a stone to be studied and prodded, but the thing that could shape the course of our world and change everything we know today?”

  “Yes,” Koltun answered, though it felt as if the words dragged from his lips.

  “And, weighing up that knowledge against the worth of your life, which would you value more highly?”

  Koltun had to only consider it for a moment. He’d been willing to sacrifice his life to hold the walls of Highcliff Motte if it gave his fellow Screaming Howlers a chance to flee, to fulfill their mission. Though his chief goal had been the preservation of his comrades’ lives—the lives of soldiers he’d come to admire, respect, and cherish as his own family—he’d also known the importance of the flarequartz and how it could shape the war’s outcome.

  “The stone,” he said.

  “One life for a life-changing discovery.” A satisfied, almost arrogant smile broadened Arch-Guardian Dayn’s lips. “The question, then, is how many more lives you are willing to trade to shape the future of humanity. Two. Five. Twenty. A hundred.” He fixed Koltun with a meaningful look. “Two hundred and thirty-three?”

  Koltun’s gut twisted. He wanted to throw the question back into the Secret Keeper’s face, to refute the statement. It felt utterly wrong to weigh human life against an inert piece of stone. Yet, with Arch-Guardian Dayn’s explanation spinning through his mind, he found himself at a loss for words.

  “And so, you understand the truth of what it means to be a Secret Keeper,” Arch-Guardian Dayn said through his apprentice. “To be wholly devoted to the service of the Mistress and the pursuit of her secrets above all else. To the exclusion of all else. To sacrifice anything and everything in Her name.” To illustrate his point, he opened his mouth and pointed to the mangled stump of his tongue.

  “This is done for two reasons.” His eyes grew flinty, holding Koltun’s gaze for long seconds. “First, to ensure that the Mistress’ secrets are never carelessly revealed to those to whom She does not wish them revealed. And second, as a reminder of what we must be willing to give up. Not for ourselves or our own desires, but for the sake of humanity. For it is we, the keepers of holy secrets, that must shepherd the world into the future. To us, it is given to seek the deeper truths, to find them, and to know what is best shared with the rest of mankind.”

  Koltun’s eyes widened. From anyone else, it might have sounded arrogant, presumptuous, perhaps even mad. Yet one look at Arch-Guardian Dayn’s face and he knew without a shadow of doubt that the man truly believed it. Not with the belief of a madman or zealot, but the cold, analytical reasoning of a truly intelligent mind.

  The Secret Keeper held up a finger, then signed a final message for his apprentice to write. “I do not wish to see these brave men and women die any more than you do, Sergeant Koltun.” He shook his head. “But if the time comes when I must make a choice, you must know what that choice will be. The question is, can you make the same choice? And if so, can you live with it?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hours had passed since Koltun’s conversation with Arch-Guardian Dayn, and still he couldn’t push the man’s written words from his thoughts. He’d fallen back to the rear of the column, finding he needed to put distance between himself and the coldly logical—or was it pragmatic?—Secret Keeper. Yet, though the sun had risen high into the sky, a deep chill settled into his bones.

  Dayn’s statements went against everything Koltun believed. He had always prided himself on his willingness to throw himself at the enemy to protect his men. First into battle and last out, that had been his motto. He’d fight harder, longer, and more fiercely if it kept the soldiers around him alive.

  Yet the Secret Keeper’s words made complete sense. Like an ice sculpture carved by a master craftsman, it was at once icy, perfectly crafted, and immediately understandable. The argument presented had been too rational to ignore, too well thought-out to write off as insanity, and—the thought filled Koltun with profound unease—something he could imagine himself or any sane person siding with.

  Dayn wasn’t wrong. That flarequartz was a discovery that could shift the tide of battle, could give the Princelanders a weapon mighty enough to destroy the Eirdkilrs. Who knew what the Secret Keepers could come up with to harness the explosive power of that strange stone?

  And yet, how could anyone condone the act of abandoning the men and women marching alongside them? Arch-Guardian Dayn could argue for the “greater good”, but faced with the deaths of the living, breathing soldiers and civilians trudging up the Cliffpass, would he truly be able to ride away and leave them to die? A part of Koltun dreaded that he would soon find out—and he wouldn’t like the answer.

  With effort, he pushed the worries aside. They had worries enough to deal with at the moment.

  Turning in his saddle, he studied the column moving slowly uphill behind him, the exhausted soldiers and bedraggled civilians, the bloodied bandages, makeshift crutches, the men and women leaning on each other for support. Groans and murmurs of pain mingled with the tromp, tromp of heavy Legionnaire boots, the rattling of the horse-drawn cart that carried the wounded, and the shuffling of tired feet. All around him looked ready to collapse from exhaustion and insufficient food—the supplies they’d carried out of Highcliff Motte had run out before dawn—yet they marched on. Fighting to stay upright, to stay alive.

  Koltun’s gaze rested for a moment on Lingram. The youth marched at Burgo’s side near the pack horses hauling the Secret Keeper’s barrels of flarequartz. Lingram’s eyes were no longer red-rimmed from weeping, though they hadn’t lost their shadows. His face still appeared wan and washed out, his cheeks sunken by grief, fatigue, and hunger.

  Or perhaps it was the clouds overhead that made him appear that way. Those dark clouds hadn’t retreated with the rising sun—if anything, they’d drawn closer, grown angrier, and filled the day with an ominous scent of impending rain and snow.

  Another familiar figure caught Koltun’s sight. Lieutenant Vorris had reined in his horse off to one side of the Cliffpass, and now he sat watching the soldiers under his command march past. Waiting, his eyes hooded and brow furrowed, worry etched into the lines of his face.

  His expression changed as Caela drew abreast of his position. As she rode past, Lieutenant Vorris kicked his horse into a trot and fell into step at her side.

  Koltun’s eyebrows rose. Then rose even higher as Lieutenant Vorris spoke to the woman. Just a few short words, and his back was hunched and his spine stiff throughout the entire exchange. Before Caela could respond, he kicked his horse into a gallop and fairly raced back up the column.

  Curiosity burning, Koltun slowed his own mount to drop back. Within two minutes, Caela reached him and he fell into position next to her. “What was that about?” he asked.

  Caela shot him a sidelong glance—though angry, cold, or nonchalant, Koltun couldn’t quite tell. A long moment of silence passed before she finally spoke. “He wanted to thank me for saving his life.”

  Koltun’s mind flashed back to their desperate escape from Highcliff Motte. Caela had risked her life to pull the Lieutenant out of the path of a falling boulder as Arch-Guardi
an Dayn’s explosion brought down the Cliffpass. “Seems a mighty polite thing to do.”

  “Yes,” was all Caela said. Yet, when Koltun glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes, he caught a hint—barely more than a flicker, there and gone so fast he could almost have imagined it—of a smile.

  * * *

  “Sergeant, Lieutenant!” A familiar voice and the thunder of hoofbeats echoed through the Cliffpass.

  Koltun tensed, every muscle in his body going rigid. Yet he relaxed when he realized the sound came from up the mountain trail.

  A moment later, Gladabar came into view around a bend in the pass, galloping toward them at full speed. The Screaming Howler reined to a halt in front of Lieutenant Vorris at the head of the column. Even from twenty yards back, Koltun had no trouble overhearing the soldier’s report—like sober, quiet wasn’t one of the words used to describe Glad.

  “Captain Hadrick and the others…two miles ahead!” Glad exclaimed, out of breath after the hard ride. “They’re making steady progress, but if we hurry, we should catch them in a couple of hours.”

  Lieutenant Vorris nodded. “Thank you, Soldier.”

  With a salute, Gladabar kicked his horse into a trot and set off down the column to rejoin his brothers and the rest of Black Squad. Koltun, going the other way, nodded to his comrade as he rode toward the front of the column.

  The news spread quickly through the ranks of survivors. Despite their exhaustion, civilians and soldiers alike seemed to come alive with a fresh surge of energy—no doubt buoyed by the promise of being reunited with their families.

  Lieutenant Vorris alone appeared to take the news hard. One look at the man’s knotted shoulders, and Koltun had no trouble deciphering the man’s thoughts. The dark look on the officer’s face confirmed it.

  “You did the right thing, Lieutenant.”